Otherwise known as St Nick
by Thaumaturgy
Summary: Can I still be posting Christmas fics? Yes? Okay, why not…because this quote was just begging to be analyzed.


**Otherwise known as St. Nick**

Summary: can I still be posting Christmas fics? Yes? Okay, why not…because this quote was just begging to be analyzed.

Disclaimer: Yes! Yes! Mine, all mine!—wait, no, never mind. I just woke up.

* * *

"Who says I'm not? Red bicycle when you were twelve."

He felt rather odd, doing this. It was certainly the first time he'd felt the urge to visit one of his companions in the past, see them as a child—but it wasn't like he was regretting it. On the other hand, the Doctor thought, smiling to himself broadly, he was decidedly enjoying seeing Rose as a small child. Well, twelve—it was small to him, certainly.

"But, _Mum_!" the blond girl protested, dragging on the arm of her mother with determination. "Come on, I'd be careful, and everything, I _promise_…"

"I said no and I meant it," Jackie snapped back, hefting her shopping bags. "You don't even know how to ride!"

"Do so," the smaller, just as spirited version of Rose retorted, pouting. "Mickey taught me. He thinks I should have it too."

This gave both Jackie and the Doctor pause, the Time Lord because he was quite surprised to be agreeing with Mickey about anything, but Rose's mother recovered first. "That's just because he wants to ride it," she told her daughter, sniffing. "Besides, it's too expensive. We're not made of money, you know."

The Doctor could have told the woman that that wouldn't stop her. "Will Santa bring me it, then?"

Jackie sighed heavily, turning to face her daughter like a much-abused parent—which she was, in some ways. "I don't _know_, Rose. Now stop your whining and give Mummy a break, will you?"

"Fine," she replied, brown eyes sparkling with that delighted, indignant fire, and the Doctor—he never could deny her anything, not in the slightest, not even when she wasn't technically even talking to him—started figuring out what exactly he would have to do to find, buy, and sneak the red bicycle into Rose's—well, it was Jackie's, really—flat.

* * *

Three days later, it was Christmas Eve—well, night—it was snowing, and the Doctor was seriously regretting this. _Damn these impulses_, he groused as he pushed the new wheels through the street. _Bugger them all_. Rose didn't have to deal with snow and anything red with two wheels right now—no, she was off seven years in the future having chips, or something. She'd been incredibly indignant when he dropped her off at her mum's, just saying that there was something he needed to do by himself—he still wasn't sure what she would think if she knew he had been observing some of her earlier years. This had all better be worth it, when he picked her up again.

If the snow had been bad, the stairs were hell, and he was just about ready to chuck the bike out a window as he reached the door and pulled out his sonic screwdriver to jimmy the lock. At least it didn't act up on him, for once. Probably could sense his irritation, he wouldn't be surprised.

It was dark in the flat, except for the lights on the tree, and he had to maneuver the bike around the table with care. But it did look good propped against the wall, he had to admit, a ribbon that matched the paint stuck on the handlebars. Rather nice, all things considered. Rather worth it.

Something caught his eye, and he turned to see the plate of cookies on the shelf. Fantastic.

He stuck about the next morning—not for long, but just enough to hear the voice of his companion at 12 years old let out an incredibly ear-piercing shriek. God, he hoped she couldn't still do that. He could hear Jackie blunder up, grumbling to herself—the walls were thin and his hearing was, he should hope, a good deal better than any human's. "Rose, what on Earth—" Then she saw it, and the Doctor would bet anything that her jaw had dropped open. "How…"

"It's Santa, mum!" Rose crowed. He could just see her—a little sprite of a figure, in pajamas that were probably pink. "Santa brought it for me!"

He left then, making his exit before he was found out seven years early, going to the TARDIS to bring her back to where Rose was most likely waiting impatiently. There was the hum that was more familiar to him than his own breath, the smooth feel of the controls under his palms, and then they were there—the same place, only years in the future and with, he found out when he stuck his head out the door, Rose looking at him indignantly. "You done, then?"

"Yup!" he said, grinning back at her widely, and Rose felt her own mouth stretch in response. Damn him for being so _infectious_…

"Where did you go, anyway?" she asked, waving her mum goodbye from where she stood in the window, several stories up—the Doctor was exceedingly glad that he wouldn't be dragging any more red bicycles up those stairs in the near future—and entering the TARDIS, grinning.

"My dear Rose—you already know."


End file.
